


Without A Word

by RottenFruitz



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Hop is only briefly mentioned, I did not know how to title or tag this, Joan is an OC of mine, but nothing graphic, mentions of human experimentation, the Alola region is also only briefly mentioned, there's also some ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenFruitz/pseuds/RottenFruitz
Summary: How can Joan speak without saying a word? And why does he not speak that much in the first place?





	Without A Word

**Author's Note:**

> (In this story Joan is fifteen!)

Joan was famous around Galar and his hometown in Alola for his ability to command his pokémon without saying a word. (And for frightening ghost type pokémon just by entering a room.) At most, he might point, but he would never say a word. He had beaten every gym and bested every challenge that way, to the wonder of any onlookers. It wasn’t wonderous to people who knew him, though. Firstly, speaking wasn’t his thing. He rarely ever spoke. If he did it was in a whisper, and his sentences were odd and disjointed.

Secondly, anyone who knew him (so his parents, Hop, and his pokémon) knew that his gift was a bit more sinister than it seemed on the surface.

The boy’s head, like his body, was an amalgamation of human and at least eighteen pokémon (though it was not physically obvious, because Joan still looked like a normal person). Their bodies had been melded into his thanks to some horrific experiments that had been done to him repeatedly over the course of four years. The pokémon still lived on in him, their minds and his had turned into one; with each melding he was forced to undergo, his brain became a more turbulent place.

Even the most skilled mind readers would quickly give up at trying to read his mind (or more accurately, minds) thanks to the endless chatter in Joan’s head overwhelming them. Ghost pokémon, especially the young ones, would give him a wide berth, trying to not upset the spirits of enraged and sorrowful pokémon that clung to him, unable to escape their pitiful existence.  
The pokémon thought so differently and wanted so many different things, it was a miracle Joan could even pick what socks to wear in the morning. But it was not any wonder why he couldn’t speak.

Any time the poor boy tried to say anything, he would have to jump through hoops. Everyone needed to agree, even to say something as simple as: “Okay.” And even that could end up being a chore if someone was having a bad day. Most of the time, it was just easier to reach out to his parents or pokémon or whoever else was with him using the telepathy he’d inherited from one of the pokémon absorbed into him.

That was the secret to his ability. That was how he commanded the pokémon on his team without saying a word. It was more of a curse than a blessing, but Joan didn’t mind it much, because it impressed people whenever he did it.


End file.
